


touch me (like i'm glass)

by viridae



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Gun Violence, andrew and neil are married, no one can tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridae/pseuds/viridae
Summary: Andrew was having a terrible day. Accidentally shooting his husband didn't help improve matters.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 333





	touch me (like i'm glass)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in an hour while on a plane on my phone. so please excuse any grammar issues or typos!  
> definitely inspired by that tumblr post about a mob boss/police chief who have to keep failing to catch each other.

Andrew scowled as he stormed back into the office, suit jacket askew and hair ruffled. Everything about him radiated anger. His coworkers hid their faces and drifted away as Andrew stalked towards his office. Everyone in the FBI bullpen collectively held their breath until Detective Andrew Minyard slumped down at his desk and didn’t bother anyone. 

Andrew, for his part, not that anyone had bothered to ask him, was having a terrible day. The line at the coffee shop had been too long, so he had skipped morning coffee. His car was breaking down and the "check engine" light was flashing. Then, he arrived at the office prepared for a day full of paperwork, only to be told to "dress in tactical gear" and engage in a shooting match with members of Baltimore’s biggest gang.

So now his gut ached from where a bruise was spreading purple across his abdomen. The bullet hit him from far enough away that it did no damage- thank you, Kevlar- but it made sitting a bitch and standing hideously worse. To top it all off, the adrenaline suppressing the pain was quickly trickling out of his body, replaced with bone-deep frustration. 

Fucking. Mondays.

Danielle Wilds followed Andrew to his desk imploringly. “We’ll get them next time,” she reassured. “We’re one step closer to shutting the Wesninskis down. It won’t be long!” 

Andrew flung his bulletproof vest to the side. “Do I look like I want to fucking talk to you?” 

Dan persisted. “But if you need anything-”

“I’m _fine_ .” Immediately, Andrew cursed himself. That was such a Neil phrase, and Andrew definitely did _not_ want to think about Neil right now. 

Dan watched him for a second more, then shrugged and left to debrief their captain. Andrew allotted himself thirty more seconds of simmering, boiling anger before he forcibly dragged himself back to work. He wasn’t looking forward to the next eight- hell, ten- hours. Before long, Wymack would start bothering him about a debriefing, Betsy would be nagging at him about retaking his psych evals, Abby would keep harping on about scheduling another chiropractor appointment when Andrew hadn't gone in _weeks-_

Andrew hauled himself out of his chair, wincing- he really did need to see his chiropractor- and moved into the open bullpen, seeking out coffee. He poured himself a generous cup, adding far too much sugar and cream, and, to the concealed delight of the workplace, ignored everyone else around him.

The clicking of tall heels invaded his personal bubble and made him wrinkle his nose. Andrew frowned into his bitter, too acidic coffee and looked up to see-

“Rough day?” Allison Reynolds, prosecutor extraordinaire, raised one elegant, arched eyebrow at Andrew. “You sure look it.”

Andrew grimaced, but he knew Renee would bother him if he brushed Allison off. “The Wesninskis are making trouble again.”

“The Baltimore office is always busy,” Allison said. “Case in point.”

“Why are you here? Renee’s been gone for a while.” 

“New case coming up.” Allison poured herself coffee, black. “I need paperwork from Boyd. How’s Neil?”

Andrew grunted in response. Allison pressed her lips together. 

“That bad, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

They drank their coffee together; Andrew felt much more settled now that he had caffeine in his system instead of wild adrenaline. 

“Tell Renee I say hello.” 

“Tell her yourself.”

“And tell Neil to call every once in a while.”

“You know as well as I do that it makes no difference whether I tell him or not.”

Allison tsked. “Can’t believe he puts up with your stubborn ass.”

Andrew drained the rest of his coffee. “Can’t believe Renee puts up with you, either.”

"Well," Allison shrugged. "Thanks for the break, Minyard. Tell Neil that I'm free for date night on Wednesday and Sunday next week."

Andrew said nothing and poured himself another cup of coffee. Whoever brewed that pot really needed to learn how to make decent coffee- Andrew didn't think he could bear another day with this brew. But as he headed back to his desk, he looked back at Reynolds and gave her a quick, two fingered, salute.

-

It was nearing midnight when Andrew was finally greenlighted by a combination of Wymack, Dan, and Betsy to leave the office. Andrew spent most of the miserable drive home complaining to himself about the pain in his gut and contemplating how best to apologize to Neil about the morning.

Andrew unlocked the door to his apartment and huffed impatiently when the key stuck inside the lock, refusing to come out. He yanked it harder than he should have and slammed the door behind him. The TV paused in the next room over.

None other than Nathaniel Wesninski, leader of Baltimore’s biggest gang, was lounging on his couch. Maybe _collapsed_ on his couch was a better way to say it- Nathaniel was bruised and battered every which way and had an icepack clutched in his hand. Even underneath his hoodie, the thick padding of bandages was obvious.

“Andrew,” he said coolly. “How was _your_ day at work?”

Andrew sighed. “Drop the act, Neil. Are you okay?”

Neil pushed himself up into a sitting position. “You _shot_ me!” he accused. “And you ask if I’m okay?” 

“I hit you somewhere not vital,” Andrew said, sounding quite resigned. He shrugged out of his coat, folding it across a chair, and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

“ _N_ _ot vital_ has a very different meaning to me. _You_ get to wear bulletproof vests. _I_ get to have Walker stitch me up in the back of a van. Which," Neil added, "She is not happy about either."

Andrew loosened his tie and tugged it over his head. “By the way, Reynolds wants you to say hello to her.”

“I will.” Neil said casually. “I’ll probably see Renee tomorrow.” And then, vaulting right back into his rant: “Was it that hard to miss?”

Andrew, more than a little petulantly, replied, “You were right in front of me and it was a clear shot. I would've been mocked for days.”

“So? I would _much_ prefer not getting shot.” 

“You know why I can’t do that.” 

“I know,” Neil muttered, anger fizzling out. “I hate it.”

Andrew toed out of his shoes and squished into the space Neil had left for him on the sofa. 

“Come here,” he murmured, and pulled Neil in until he slumped against Andrew’s chest. Andrew reached down until he felt the distinct padding on Neil’s ribcage. Truth be told, it could've been a lot worse. “I hate it, too.” 

Being married for three years and together for seven, despite living on two vastly different sides of the law, still felt like a safe haven for Andrew to return to. Neil was familiar in a way nothing else could replicate, his weight against Andrew comforting instead of barricading, calming Andrew down so much more than a debriefing with Betsy ever could. 

"Allison said she's free for date night on Wednesday and Sunday," Andrew said, suddenly remembering their conversation. "She'll be in the office the next few days for me to pass any messages along."

"Hm," Neil sighed. "Maybe Sunday. I'll clear up my schedule. There's that new Greek place on 5th, and I know someone who works there." His hand covered Andrew's and he linked their fingers together. "But I would so much rather be with you."

And that right there made up for every bad thing that had happened that day. Sometimes it still blew Andrew's mind; he lived in a world where he was married, he was content, he was happy. Individual days could be rough, but Neil was there to smooth over his jagged edges.

How he had gotten this lucky, Andrew didn't know.

His eyes began to close, in spite of his best efforts to stay awake. He was going to have a night of uninterrupted sleep with Neil right next to him. He would get to call in sick for the next three days (perhaps there were perks to getting shot from a distance).

Mondays might be shit, but Tuesdays sometimes made up for them.

“Thank god you’re such a good shot,” Neil said sleepily, after a few minutes of silence. “Imagine if you were a terrible shot and, say, hit me in the arm.” 

“That was _one_ time.”

“Or the leg.”

“Accident.”

“Still happened,” Neil said. With his free hand (his other one was still holding Andrew’s) he fumbled for the remote and clicked through the TV channels until he found one recapping college Exy highlights. Andrew tried to pay attention, purely for Neil’s sake, but after about five minutes it transformed into white noise.

“Andrew,” Neil murmured. He pushed himself up so he was facing Andrew. “Yes or-”

“Yes,” Andrew said, unhesitatingly, and threaded his free hand into Neil’s hair to pull him closer. Contentment ballooned in Andrew’s stomach, a puzzle piece slotting perfectly into place. Neil kissed him softly, gently, and pressed his forehead against Andrew’s.

When they finally separated for air, Andrew took a deep breath and kissed the freckle on Neil’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, uncharacteristically gently. "I'll make it up to you somehow."

Andrew could feel Neil’s smile against his neck. “You always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is appreciated :)


End file.
